Beautiful Disaster
by After Six
Summary: Arthur/Morgana, a depiction of their entire journey together through childhood, crushes, love, and betrayal.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

It was a windy spring day when Arthur Pendragon first laid eyes on Lady Morgana, daughter of Gorlois.

He remembered playing in the field dominated with green and yellow, running happily under the sun after he'd snuck out early of his daily scheduled sword training. He was only eight years old then, and had been far more interested in exploring his father's land rather than the politics or the discipline that Uther tried to instill in him early on in order to prepare him to be Camelot's best knight.

A voice called out to him and he instinctively tried to duck among the tall grass, seeking cover futilely. Soon enough the strong arm of one of the palace guards grabbed him and lifted him to his feet. "The king requests your presence immediately, sire," he told him somewhat respectfully, which Arthur only found amusing because the guard was holding his much too small frame in one hand as if he weighed nothing.

"Al-right," he sighed and followed the guard obediently, already wondering what kind of punishment he'd receive once his father was done with him. Still, it was worth it to steal what little freedom he could.

Sauntering among the halls, Arthur looked up at the too high ceiling and the towering pillars that dotted the entire palace. This place always seemed too big for him, although his father always told him one day he'd grow enough to fit there properly. That one day he, too, would be a king just like him, and that this entire land was going to be his to command.

Arthur still found the idea overwhelming, even if secretly he liked to play with his little crown and pretend he had subjects that would obey his every will (Mostly, though, he just told them to fetch him food and clean his boots). But when it came to the reality, he had to admit it was a little intimidating to inherit such responsibility. What did he know about ruling a land, really?

And now his father probably wanted to punish him because he was supposed to be learning to defend his kingdom instead of prancing about in the field.

The doors to throne room were opened, and standing up a little bit straighter, Arthur walked as confidently as he could into it, toward the king that was sitting upon his throne as per usual. To Arthur's surprise, he didn't look too displeased. In fact, he was smiling.

"Arthur, there you are. I've been looking for you everywhere. We mustn't keep our guest too long," Uther Pendragon, King of Camelot, stood up and patted his head.

Arthur was confused. Was he not here to be chided after all? "Guest?" he asked wonderingly. His father hadn't mentioned any expected guest this morning.

"Yes, I do hope you two will be able to get along. Bring her in," Uther signaled to one of the guards waiting by the door, and before Arthur could open his mouth to protest, a few seconds later a young girl who looked as if she was deathly afraid yet trying her best to appear brave was escorted inside. She held her chin up as she walked toward Arthur and Uther, proud and graceful as any real princess.

For a moment Arthur found the words that he'd been so ready to say caught in his throat. She was pretty—very pretty—with her blue-green eyes and thick raven hair and porcelain white skin. She glanced briefly at him, seemed unimpressed, then looked up expectantly at Uther. Arthur bristled at how easily the girl had dismissed him. He was the _Crown Prince_! How dare her.

"Arthur, this is Lady Morgana. Her father Gorlois was a good friend of mine, and he just passed away. Since she has no one in her life anymore, I have decided to take her as my ward and treat her as if she's my own child. And you'll treat her as if she's your sister. She's two years older than you, so you have to respect her." Uther then turned to face the girl. "Morgana, this is my only son, Arthur. I am sure both of you will be friends in no time."

Morgana did not look convinced by this reassurance at all, and neither was Arthur. His father had decided to adopt this _girl_? He'd have to live together with her for the rest of his life? Arthur scrunched up his nose in distaste. He didn't want a sister! He wanted a brother that he could play with; not some stuck-up girl who probably only liked to play with her dolls all day. Actually, no, scratch that. He didn't want _any_ sibling. He liked being his father's only child. He was going to inherit the throne, was he not? And he certainly didn't like the fact that she was older than him. He'd better still be king with this… Morgana around.

"Well?" Uther nudged him when he still didn't say anything, and reluctantly Arthur bowed slightly to her.

"Welcome, Lady Morgana," he said as politely as he could. "We're very happy to have you here."

Morgana curtsied in return, her face still a mask of indifference. "Thank you for having me here. I am forever indebted to you, Your Majesty," she directed this last bit to Uther.

"Please, consider me as your new father, Morgana. I know I could never replace your real father, but I want us to be close. I want you to be happy here in Camelot," Uther smiled to her.

Arthur rolled his eyes at Uther's obvious adoring expression. Great, Morgana had been there for five minutes and his father was already doting on her. He was never this affectionate with Arthur—in fact, he was very strict and distant. Arthur found himself feeling jealous of Morgana already, even as he lamented the fact that she was a girl for the thousandth time.

She was going to make his life hell, he just knew it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Ten-year-old Morgana sat alone in her new lavish chambers, finding none of the pretty gowns in her wardrobe or the beautiful sparkling jewelries that overflowed the box on her vanity table comforting. Everything felt unfamiliar here, so cold and frightening. The King had told her she needed only to ask for whatever she wanted, but the only thing Morgana wanted was the only thing he couldn't give her.

She wanted her real father back. She wanted her mother with her. She wanted her family, her _real _family, not a stranger that she was now to call father and a pouty blonde brat for a brother. Morgana had taken one look at the Prince and decided he wasn't worth her time, and she hardly believed that he would prove her wrong. He'd grown up as the only child his entire life and was set to inherit the kingdom. He could only be an arrogant spoiled boy who wouldn't want her company any more than she wanted his.

She sighed and tried her best to suppress her tears, not wanting to be caught crying by the people in this strange place. Camelot looked pretty outside her window, though the view didn't soothe her sadness much. Her father had just passed away and she'd just come to terms about having to fend for herself from that point on. And then suddenly Uther decided to adopt her, and who was she to refuse such a generous offer from a king? Morgana knew deep down that she was lucky, that this was a once in a lifetime opportunity, that she had a savior that would make sure she would always be looked after and would never want for anything. It all made sense logically, and yet her heart still couldn't feel the joy that she was supposed to be feeling.

She just missed the people she knew and loved and didn't want to be in this cold, unfamiliar room with its cold, beautiful trinkets that would never be enough to warm her heart. She would never feel loved again, she was sure of it. How could she? She'd lost every single person that mattered in her life. This was supposed to be her new life, but she scarcely believed that it would rival the happiness that she'd felt in her old life.

A soft knock on the door startled her and made her quickly wipe her eyes clear of the threatening tears as she stood up to greet her first guest.

"My Lady?" to her surprise, a young girl around her own age was standing there. She had darker skin, soft dark curls that formed ringlets around her face, and brown eyes. For all intents and purposes, she looked very common, and from the dress she was wearing Morgana deduced that she wasn't yet another royalty that she had yet to meet. The girl smiled uncertainly at her. "My name is Guinevere. May I come in?"

Her eyes shone of warmth and friendliness that for a moment made Morgana's fears and anxiety melt. "Of course," she nodded slowly, wondering what she was doing here exactly. Perhaps the King, knowing his son wouldn't be of much use to entertain her, had found someone else to befriend her?

"My mother works in the household of one of the knights here," Guinevere continued as she stepped inside. "So I get to wander around the palace a lot. Since you have no maidservant yet, the King has chosen me to be some sort of your handmaiden-in-training. Of course, I'm not nearly old enough yet, but…"

"I don't need a maidservant of my own," Morgana said quickly, horrified at the idea that this young girl was supposed to attend to her needs. "I'm sure I could share… with someone."

"No, no, like I said, I'm not nearly old enough yet," Guinevere smiled. "I'm just here to be, uh… your friend… for now," she said, then added hesitantly, "if you'd like to have me, that is."

Morgana looked at her for a moment, wondering if she did want a friend. She'd been so sure she didn't need or want one, now that everyone she knew in her life had been ripped away. But could she spend the rest of her life here with no one to talk to? No one to share her thoughts and feelings with? That seemed awfully lonely. She doubted she'd ever be able to do that with Uther, no matter how much he seemed to want to be her new father, and it was clearly a stupid thing to hope to form any kind of bond with Arthur.

And Guinevere looked so nice, so friendly, and Morgana sensed that she could learn to like her a lot. It didn't matter that she was the daughter of one of the maids and would probably grow up to be one herself someday; Morgana was only treated in such respect out of Uther's kindness too after all. She wasn't really the lady of the court, and even now the position still felt as if she was playing dress-up. "Okay," she said finally, an uncertain smile forming on her lips. "I'd like that very much, Guinevere."

Guinevere's face brightened and for a moment she was exuding such innocence that made Morgana almost felt as if she was back home where everything was safe and comfortable and she didn't need to worry about a thing or keep her manners. Where she could just be a little girl. "Call me Gwen," Guinevere said shyly, then moved closer to Morgana.

Morgana smiled more openly now and clasped Guinevere's hands. "It's very nice to meet you, Gwen."

* * *

Arthur walked toward the training field, swinging his short sword in a dark mood. As it turned out, his father hadn't overlooked his little escapade after all and had chided him properly after Morgana was sent to her chambers. Now he was to make up for the training that he missed earlier despite the fact that it was already in the late afternoon. This was usually his resting time, but according to the King, since he'd had that already, he shouldn't have a problem making up for his training now.

Why could his father never give him a break? He bet Morgana was lounging on her bed right now, playing with silly dolls and having the time of her life. _Lucky girl_. To be chosen as the King's ward was not a trivial thing. Uther must have really liked Gorlois, and for some reason felt responsible for his daughter's well-being. Arthur's father had chosen to give Morgana a new life that she otherwise wouldn't get to have, so Arthur hoped the girl was appreciating it for what it was worth. Because if she dared to take it for granted, he'd be the first person to make her see sense. He didn't give up being the only child so she could feel ungrateful and self-entitled.

But just when he was about to enter the field, he caught sight of her small figure—no longer in a dress but in a pair of pants much like his own—strolling toward the very same destination. Carrying a small sword of her own. Arthur stopped dead in his tracks; shocked. What was she doing? Here, dressed like that, carrying that sword? She couldn't possibly—

Morgana looked up and caught him staring at her. "Oh. Hi," she said shortly, again looking blasé about the fact that he was there. Arthur was getting really annoyed. He didn't meet girls often except for when he traveled into the lower town, but whenever he did he'd always been met by admiring looks and shy glances from all around. He was a good-looking boy and he was very aware of it. And here stood a girl who not only could see that, but also knew he was the Crown Prince and future king of this land, and she just kept dismissing him as if he was nothing! It was infuriating.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded of her.

Morgana kept walking ahead, not even bothering to look at him as she replied, "What does it look like? Sword training."

Arthur was just pondering the need to teach this girl manners when speaking to the Prince when he heard what she said and let out a surprised laugh laced with disbelief. "What? Sword training? _You_?"

Finally Morgana turned around and narrowed her eyes at him. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Well," Arthur looked at her as if she was asking a dumb question. "You're a _girl_."

"So?" Morgana challenged defiantly, and for a moment Arthur found himself speechless.

"Girls don't need to learn how to handle a sword! You're probably helpless at it, anyway," he scoffed.

Morgana eyed him with distaste for a while, but then something changed in her eyes. "Want to fight me?"

Arthur laughed out loud at that. "No way. My father will kill me for injuring the girl he just made his ward."

"Why are you so sure that you'd be the one injuring me? I daresay I'm much better with a sword than you are."

"That's preposterous!" Arthur was really annoyed now. "You may be older than me, but I've been trained with a sword since as soon as I could hold one."

"So have I," Morgana shrugged. "And that means I have two years' advantage. I guess it's not a very fair match, after all."

"Okay, that's it," Arthur stomped his boot on the grass, then regretted how childish it looked a second later. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and tried to look taller than he was. "I'm not going to hold back, and you can't blame me when you run crying to my father's arms once I'm done with you."

"Deal," Morgana said without hesitation, her eyes glinting with delight. "But if I win, I get to tell your father I beat you."

Arthur hesitated, but only for a moment. What were the odds of this girl being a better sword fighter than he was? Zero. He'd win this match easy and finally get to put her in her place. "Fine. Let's do it, then."

There were only four or five knights scattered around the training field, and they all looked on with interest as Arthur and Morgana walked into it brandishing their little swords. They were just blunt, light swords that wouldn't really hurt either of them, but the two of them still provided quite a bit of entertainment for the intrigued onlookers. It was Morgana's first day as the king's ward, and she'd already roped the young Prince into a duel.

The two of them took their stances, for a long moment just eying each other as they slowly walked in a circle. Then, probably sensing that Arthur was still too stubborn to make the first move, Morgana stroke first, causing a look of surprise on Arthur's face, yet he managed to block the blow at the last second. The two of them continued to parry each other's blows for a while, neither succeeding more than the other.

Arthur did have to admit that Morgana was skilled with her sword, and the way she fought was definitely not something he expected at all. She was quick on her feet and sometimes he only barely managed to block her attacks. Still, the moment he regained his concentration and overcame his surprise, he found himself back in familiar ground and his body knew what to do even before his mind decided. The reverberating clangs of their swords filled the air for a long while, then suddenly Arthur found an opening and, grinning with early victory, made a break for it.

Morgana leaped away a second too late and lost her footing, and she found herself sprawled on her back on the ground with Arthur smiling gleefully above her. A second later, the world suddenly turned upside down as Morgana swept Arthur off his feet with a deft kick and it was his turn to feel all the air knocked out of him, and suddenly he was gasping at the blue sky.

And then the tip of Morgana's sword was pressed to his throat, and he stared at her in disbelief. Somehow, she'd gotten back to her feet in lightning speed and was now standing above him with a satisfied smile. She'd won.

He couldn't believe it. She had won! How was that even possible?

Morgana laughed a little at Arthur's bewildered expression and pulled the sword back. "Guess it's time to tell your father you just got beaten by a girl." Then she walked off without waiting for him to react, and Arthur felt as if all the emotions assaulting him at that moment—utter embarrassment, fury, envy, desire for revenge, and a little bit of admiration—were more than enough to keep him pinned to the ground.

He couldn't get up for a long time, and he was still there long after Morgana's lithe figure disappeared from his line of sight.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

That night's dinner was the most unpleasant meal Arthur had had to endure in his entire life. Morgana had made good on her promise to tell Uther about the duel and the King had been absolutely charmed by the excited way his new ward told the story as they ate for the first time as a family.

"And then I swept him off his feet and held my sword to his throat, and it was over," Morgana concluded with a grin, her eyes lighting up with glee. Arthur couldn't stand it for much longer and wanted so badly to wipe that smug look off her face. But as she watched her from across the table, he was also a little surprised to notice that she _could _smile after all. He hadn't seen her indifferent expression change much since she arrived earlier this morning and had been convinced the girl was an emotionless ice queen or some sort, but now she appeared as fiery as she was frosty the first time he laid eyes on her.

And she looked even more beautiful when she was speaking passionately like that, which was something that deeply disturbed him.

Uther's laugh cut Arthur's bizarre thoughts short. "Well, I'm glad you have already gotten yourselves acquainted with each other so well," he said, lifting his goblet of wine to his lips. "No better way to do that than a good old sword fight, I'd say." He turned to glance at Arthur for what seemed like the first time since the start of dinner. "And it also seems I need to train Arthur better. I can't have people hearing that he can be beaten by a girl."

Arthur fumed. "She's two years older!" he exclaimed at once, not caring how whiny he sounded.

"It doesn't matter; you're supposed to be the best future knight of Camelot," his father chided him sternly. "This is what happens when you skip your training, Arthur. There shall be no more of that, or I'll send you to the stocks myself."

Arthur pouted as he pushed his food around, and from beneath his eyelashes he could see Morgana eying him with a little self-satisfied smile. Clearly she was happy she'd gotten him in trouble.

He sighed; how was he supposed to tolerate her day after day if this was only the first one and he'd already been tempted to murder her in her sleep?

* * *

It was late morning a few days later when Arthur walked down the castle corridors alone, heading toward his favorite place. There was an unused room near the back of the castle where there was nothing left but an old empty cupboard in it that he frequented when he needed to get away from everyone and just steal a moment or two of peace. It was the place he always went to whenever he felt overwhelmed. When he was there, he always shed all his roles, duties, and responsibilities, and pretended he was just an ordinary boy.

That he was just Arthur, an eight-year-old boy who sometimes felt a little bit lonely, and not Arthur Pendragon the Crown Prince who had the weight of the kingdom's future on his shoulders.

Today however, as he neared the room, he heard strange noises coming from it. He tensed up; realizing that there was someone there. For a moment panic and disappointment washed over him. Could someone have found his hiding place? Had his father decided to reuse the room for something else? Could he no longer make it his safe haven?

It took him a while to realize that the sound coming from the room was a girl's voice. And that it was the sound of her crying. At first he was deeply confused about why on earth there would be a crying girl in the castle—was it a _ghost_?—he nearly ran in the opposite direction, too afraid to find out who it was, until he remembered that the castle household had a new addition recently.

_Morgana_.

Was it her in there? Arthur wasn't sure he could believe it; she had never seemed like the crying type. Besides, she had looked pretty lively lately, always teasing him to no end and never letting him forget how inferior his sword fighting skills were to hers. Arthur had trained more rigorously than ever after that, determined to have a rematch and prove to her that her victory was just beginner's luck. Either way, what with him being her constant source of amusement, he could see no reason why she of all people would be crying in a hidden corner of the castle.

Unable to suppress his curiosity for much longer, Arthur opened the door to the room as quietly as possible, and to his surprise, he did find Morgana in there, curled up in a ball in the middle of the room as she sobbed, her face pressed to the knees she hugged to her chest.

Her crying was so heart-wrenching that for a moment Arthur was frozen on his spot, suddenly feeling as if he was intruding on a very private moment he ought not to watch.

As if sensing his presence, or maybe she'd heard the door opening, Morgana looked up in alarm, and Arthur was even more surprised to find her usually pretty face now all red and blotchy, no doubt from many hours of weeping.

Morgana looked as if Arthur was the last person she ever hoped to discover her in this very state. Horror flickered in her eyes before fiery anger replaced it. "What do you want? Go away!" she yelled at him so harshly, and he was so shocked he nearly did exactly as he was told without question.

But it was not indignation at being ordered around by someone else that stopped him in his tracks. It was… well, Arthur didn't know exactly what it was, but he just felt as though he just couldn't leave her there like this. As though it would be wrong for him as a future knight, as her sort of brother, and as the Prince to abandon this girl whom he never imagined would ever look this vulnerable, to cry alone in this cold and abandoned room.

And so he stepped inside instead, closing the door behind him, and approached her as carefully as he might approach a wild boar.

Morgana looked even more furious. "I said go away! Leave me alone!" she insisted with more vehemence than before.

But Arthur stood his ground. For a moment he seemed at a loss for words, but then he said softly, "What's wrong?"

Morgana shook her head and tried to swat him away. "Please just leave," she said, in a voice so broken this time it made Arthur's heart tug painfully in the way that he never felt before. Not even when he missed the mother he never knew so much it almost physically hurt.

"I won't leave until you tell me what's wrong," he said, sitting down next to her.

Morgana flinched and scooted away a little, and Arthur wasn't sure why he felt hurt by that. He didn't even _like _her. "Look, you can go tell your father you find me here like this, alright? Go ahead. That'll make us even."

Even though she said that, Arthur could see how much Morgana didn't want him to tell Uther what he'd seen. And yet she was just so desperate to get him to leave that she'd rather endure the embarrassment.

"I'm not going to tell my father anything," he said calmly, and he actually meant it. He just hoped she could see that he was being sincere. "I just… tell me what's wrong."

"Why?" Morgana asked, her brows furrowed in confusion. "What do you care?"

Arthur paused; it was a question he wasn't sure how to answer. She was right, he didn't care about her. Well, he'd thought he didn't. Apparently he had to care at least a little if he now found himself here with her instead of leaving her the way she wanted him to.

"Well… you're my sort of sister. I want to help," he said at last, almost as if he was trying to convince himself more than her.

"What makes you think _you _can help? This is something no one could fix."

Arthur blinked, unfazed. "Well… it's alright. You can still tell me anyway. It might make you feel better just to talk about it with someone else."

Morgana looked at him funnily, then shook her head and let out a long, shuddering breath. She shrugged as if she'd finally given up arguing with him. "Fine. I just… I miss my father." At this, fresh tears brimmed in her eyes. "I miss him so much."

Arthur felt a pang of real sympathy, and realized he'd nearly forgotten the reason Morgana came to Camelot in the first place. Her father had just passed away, and she had no one left. That was what his father had said, wasn't it? And yet all this time, in his self-centeredness, none of it had ever really registered. He'd never seen Morgana as the girl who'd just been orphaned; he'd always just seen her as the new annoyance he never wanted to deal with but couldn't get rid of.

Suddenly he felt really, really awful.

"I… I'm sorry," he said, and in a very uncharacteristically gentle move, he reached out his hand and rested it on top of hers.

She looked as startled at this sudden contact as he was when he realized what he'd just done. Her fingers curled slightly, but again to both their surprise she didn't pull away.

Arthur saw this as progress, and so he continued hurriedly, "My mother died when I was born too. I never even knew her, and you'd think that makes it easier because, well… how can you miss someone you never even knew? But it doesn't." He sighed and looked down at his shoes. He wasn't quite sure why he was telling her all this. He never discussed his mother with anyone, not even his father, although that was mostly because of Uther's reluctance to speak of her. "I miss her every day. But…" he stole a glance at Morgana, noticing that she'd gone very quiet, "…it must be so much harder for you. Because you have so many memories of him."

Morgana bit her lip, and she looked as if she was trying hard not to burst into tears again. Arthur squeezed her hand gently, and then it was like she couldn't hold it in anymore. Suddenly she started sobbing all over again, harder this time, but to his shock she also lunged toward him and buried her face in his chest, as if trying to disappear from the world. Or maybe she was just trying to find protection and comfort.

Although shell-shocked, Arthur instinctively started patting her back, murmuring comforting words and telling her everything was going to be okay, even though he wasn't sure it would. And then, somehow—he wasn't quite sure how it'd happened—he found his arms encircled around her protectively, as if to shield her from her grief and from all the hurt in the world. They were locked in an embrace until minutes, or maybe hours, later her sobs finally subsided, and even when she'd stopped crying altogether, the two of them sat together in each other's arms like that for a long time.

And despite the fact that she was the older one, Arthur suddenly felt as if he was the one ought to protect Morgana from now on. Because he'd finally understood that though she might appear like the strongest girl he'd ever seen—and in many ways, she _was_—deep down she was also vulnerable and human and, maybe, just maybe, she often felt as lonely as he did.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

If Arthur expected things to change between them after that one vulnerable moment, he couldn't be more wrong. Later, he would tell himself that he _didn't _want things to change, necessarily. He wasn't expecting anything from Morgana, and he certainly didn't want them to start becoming best friends or anything. Still, when he ran into her the next day, he was surprised by her piercing, cold glare when they locked eyes.

_The shield is back up_, he remembered thinking in a rare intuitive moment.

"Hi," he said—a little too friendly, if he might add, which she most certainly didn't deserve. They had parted in a somewhat awkward way the previous day when the spell was finally broken and Morgana scrambled out of his arms, mumbling something about needing to go back to her room. He'd let her go and had only left the empty room when the sun had set in the horizon. A strange emptiness had filled him when she left his embrace, one that took him a while to shake.

Yet today all Morgana said in reply to his greeting was, "Breathe one word of what happened yesterday and I will slash your throat." Then, still with her fierce mask of determination that told Arthur she might just mean it, she walked off.

He could've spluttered, could've been indignant, could've reported her to his father for daring to threaten the life of the Crown Prince, but all he felt instead was a tiny disappointment.

_Just a tiny one_, he convinced himself.

* * *

Months passed and seasons changed. The boy and the girl grew up together and the relationship dynamic between them continued to change with each passing year. After that little hostile moment so long ago, Morgana slowly melted back to her initial attitude towards Arthur; taunting and superior, infuriating him in every chance she got. She became playful again, and it was as if neither the moment she cried nor when she threatened his life ever existed. Arthur never saw another glimpse of her vulnerability, nor did he ever receive more of the extreme hostility. She seemed to have coped with her father's death better—or perhaps just in the safety of her room where he could not see her.

They never talked about it anymore.

Arthur followed her lead and enlightened her by rising to her challenges and engaging her in both verbal and physical duels as often as he could. She still beat him more often than not—in both instances—but he was slowly getting better at becoming a worthy opponent for her.

And the healthy competition continued to blossom like every other sibling rivalry known to man.

One afternoon when Morgana was fourteen years old, she and Gwen lay on their backs in a green meadow close to the castle, enjoying a rare moment when they could have a friendly conversation without Arthur trying to eavesdrop or pull pranks on them (it seemed Morgana had doomed Gwen by association because she often became the victim of Arthur's little 'jokes' too).

"You're thinking of him, aren't you?" Morgana said, spying a barely suppressed smile on Gwen's upturned face.

Her friend looked startled and blushed, but she still asked, "Whoever do you mean?"

"_Him_. The boy we met at the market," Morgana tickled Gwen's cheek with a flower. "The one you couldn't keep your eyes off of even long after he's walked away."

"I'm not!" Gwen still tried to deny it, even though she knew it was a futile attempt. Morgana was known for her keen eyes and perceptiveness. "Okay, maybe I am. But it's foolish. He would never look twice at me."

"Don't be ridiculous. Why would he not?"

"I'm… well… First off, I know for a fact that when we walk together, no one _ever _looks at me," Gwen said, and this time she was the one who raised her hand to fend off Morgana's protests. "Face it, Morgana, you are extraordinarily beautiful. This is a fact."

Morgana still seemed like she wanted to say something, but even she could not honestly contest that. Even without being conceited.

"And secondly, well… he's the son of a respectable man. And I'm… I'm just the daughter of a blacksmith. I'm a maidservant."

"In the _King's castle_," was Morgana's best attempt to alleviate Gwen's words.

Gwen gave her a look. "Come on, that hardly makes a difference."

"So what? Since when is love supposed to care about social standings and how rich you are? I say, when those things still play a big part in your decision to be with someone or not, then that isn't real love. And if he thinks you're not good enough for him, then he doesn't deserve you anyway."

Gwen smiled wearily. "Easy to say, but it still hurts, doesn't it?"

"Well, he might still like you for who you are. You can't just damn him before you even try talking to him. At the very least you ought to give him a chance."

"Aren't you the expert now?" Gwen teased, casting a sideways glance at her friend. "And how many boys have you been with, exactly?" she asked, even though she'd been with Morgana for the last five years and knew for a fact the answer was none.

Morgana rolled her eyes. "None of them are worthy of my affection. And I don't mean it in the way you think. It's not because I'm the King's ward. It's because so many of them lacks the intellect and gentlemanly attitude that I seek. I'd rather save myself for someone who's really worth it."

"Like the Prince?" Gwen asked suddenly, which caused Morgana to splutter before she started laughing uncontrollably.

"W-what?" she asked in between wheezes of laughter. She eventually managed to gather herself enough to say, "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I must've misheard you, Gwen, because for a second there I thought you said 'the Prince'."

"I did!" Gwen said indignantly.

"Um, for one thing, he's my brother," Morgana pointed out.

"No, he isn't. You know for a fact you two don't share any blood relations."

"So? He's still an idiot!"

"He's the Prince. Are you seriously saying you don't know that your father expects this to be the natural course of action when you're both older? You are the First Lady of the Court. The King's ward. What better match is there for his only son, the future King?"

"I don't know, aren't there other Princesses who would be more willing to tolerate him?"

Gwen looked at her patiently. "Why should the Prince look far and wide for a worthy Princess when there's one right here? Honestly, Morgana. It's what everyone expects of you. You really aren't aware of this?"

Morgana sat up abruptly, her face a mix of disbelief and exasperation. "Honestly? Yes! Why has no one told me this before? Are you sure it's not just you or your assumption? Because I can't imagine a worse match."

Gwen sat up too. "I think you're kind of perfect for each other."

"Are you serious? We fight all the time!"

"And yet some of the best matches are those who continue to challenge each other," Gwen smiled. "You two would be a perfect example for that. This way, when you both rule Camelot as King and Queen, you would be doing it as equals. He will never look down upon you just because you're a woman, and you will never just be the weak and submissive Queen who supports whatever he does without question. You'll be more than just his crutch. You'll be his advisor, his opposition when he needs one, and the one who challenges him for his mistakes. A King always needs a Queen that can do all that, my lady." Something in Gwen's voice told Morgana that she wasn't just speaking of the future King.

Morgana looked at her for a moment, speechless. The logical part of her brain recognized that Gwen made some very good points. She couldn't imagine a future Queen that would be able to set Arthur straight better than she could. Knowing his arrogance and idiocy, he would need all the help he could get and she didn't think just about any Princess who didn't know him as well as she did would be brave enough to contest his decisions and get him to do the right thing. Still… "Be that as it may, I can't imagine myself being in love with him. Ever."

Gwen smiled conspiratorially. "Maybe you already are, and you just don't realize it yet."

"Oh, please!" Morgana started throwing all her fingers could find on the ground toward her friend; grass, lumps of dirt, flowers. "Stop this crazy talk right now before I make you clean the entire castle by yourself!"

Knowing the threat was most definitely a joke, Gwen laughed and ran away from her friend, knowing that she for one very much looked forward to the day Morgana realized that she was right.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Camelot often received their fair share of guests from the other kingdoms, and when he was forced to entertain the young princes or princesses in these occasions, Arthur usually either became best friends with them or developed a full-blown irritation towards them. He really was not much for neutrality, it seemed. As the party of King Tallis arrived that week, even from first glance, Arthur could already tell that with the case of this King's son, Prince Rowan, it was going to be the latter.

The teenage Prince was two years older than Arthur, with a huge build that made him easily tower over the younger Prince. The moment the Kings dismissed them to 'get to know each other' and they were out of sight of their fathers, Rowan pushed Arthur hard, nearly slamming him against the wall. "Get out of my way, little Prince. You're way too scrawny for my taste," he snarled.

Arthur, though shocked by the amount of energy in that one seemingly effortless push, shot back, "You can't talk to me like that! This is my kingdom!"

"So? You're just a kid," Rowan sneered.

"So are you!" Arthur snapped, his face red with fury. He wished their fathers could hear this, because he knew just telling Uther about it wouldn't make his father believe him. Besides, the King never liked it if Arthur came to him whining about some other kid. He always said that if Arthur didn't like someone, he ought to challenge that man to a duel and beat him.

"I'm bigger and older than you so I get to give the orders," Rowan said easily, walking away from Arthur.

"It doesn't work that way," Arthur gritted his teeth and, despite his better judgment, decided to follow his father's advice. "Fight me."

Rowan stopped, clearly not expecting what he said. "What?" he asked curiously, looking at Arthur over his wide shoulder.

"Fight me and prove your worth," Arthur repeated louder, already regretting what he was doing even before he saw the malicious smile on Rowan's lips.

"Well, well. Why not? This will be entertaining."

* * *

_I should have specified the terms of the challenge_, Arthur thought morosely fifteen minutes later when he stood in the training field holding a heavy flail in his hands. This stick with the nasty looking iron ball at the end of it was definitely not Arthur's weapon of choice. He was good with swords, not a barbaric weapon like this. He should have known it would be _Rowan_'s favorite. And because Arthur had not specified the weapons involved in the fight, Rowan got to challenge him back by choosing it for them.

Of course Arthur would rather die than admit he had no idea how to use the weapon, and so he had agreed to it. Foolishly. At least Rowan hadn't chosen the ones whose balls had those sharp spikes protruding all over them.

Rowan swung around the weapon, as adept with it as if it was one of his limbs. Arthur maintained a defensive stance, hoping he could get lucky and somehow beat him, as unlikely as the odds were.

Then suddenly, out of nowhere, the end of Rowan's flail whipped against his shoulder, hard. He winced as the jarring pain spread down the entire arm. Before he could even recover from that, Rowan had hit him again on the stomach. This time Arthur let out a grunt and glared at his opponent in part frustration and part disbelief. Was he trying to _kill _Arthur? With a little more energy Rowan could break his ribs with that move.

Rowan smirked and seemed like he intended to do just that. His hand flew up again and Arthur managed to jump aside, whipping his own flail in return. To his horror, Rowan simply caught the iron ball snugly in his fist as if it was made of cotton. He yanked the weapon out of Arthur's grasp, which caused Arthur to fall forward from the momentum. Rowan laughed and raised his arm to deal the final blow. _Well, that's got to break the record on how fast I was beaten_, Arthur thought.

And then, suddenly, "HEY!" the voice of a very angry teenage girl broke in, causing both boys to look up in surprise.

Arthur couldn't believe his eyes. It was _Morgana_.

_Oh, great_, he thought to himself miserably. _Isn't it enough that this big bully is beating me up already? Is she going to team up with him, too? _

But against all of his expectations, Morgana whipped a flail of her own out of nowhere and clipped Rowan neatly on his chest, making him stumble backwards in shock. "What… what was that?" he demanded, trying hard to breathe after having the air knocked out of his lungs. Then he looked at Arthur and sneered again. "Need a girl to fight for you? Is that what this is?"

"No!" Arthur said hotly, even more furious now that Morgana had embarrassed him on top of everything else. "I had nothing to do with this! Morgana, what are you even doing here?"

Morgana ignored him completely, her gaze only on Rowan. "Pick someone your own size, little Prince. Prove that you're not only good at beating up someone smaller and younger than you."

Rowan smiled condescendingly. "I'm not going to fight a _girl_."

Despite his annoyance, Arthur couldn't help feeling amused at this common mistake, one that he'd made himself five years ago when he first met Morgana.

"Scared you're going to get beaten by a girl, is it?" Morgana taunted back. Rowan gritted his teeth, clearly torn between wanting to fight her and behaving in an honorable way.

Luckily for everyone involved, Rowan was never worth much in the matter of honor.

"Fine," he spat, gripping his weapon tighter. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

* * *

At the end of it, Morgana beat Rowan so mercilessly that Rowan had to beg for her mercy before she would stop hitting him. On his knees. Crying, with loads of snot and tears involved. Arthur had to admit that was a hilarious moment. One that he would never forget. He still couldn't stop laughing long after Morgana had finally let Rowan run back to his father, no doubt to report both of them to him.

Morgana dropped her flail at last and approached him with an amused smile of her own. Then all of a sudden she tried pulling his shirt up, which made his laughing cease abruptly as he stared at her in alarm. "Um, what are you doing?" he scooted away and pushed her hands back.

"I'm trying to see your bruises, silly. Stay still for a moment while I inspect them," Morgana ordered sternly.

"I don't have bruises," Arthur protested even as he could feel them forming on his skin.

Morgana ignored him and pushed the fabric up again, and this time Arthur didn't stop her. She made a sympathetic gasp and bit her lip as she got a good look at them. Arthur looked down curiously. "Are they that bad?" he asked, and when he saw the purple marks on his stomach and then on his shoulder when Morgana inspected the one there as well, he suddenly felt like such a weakling. Now he was embarrassed in front of her. "They don't hurt that much, really," he shrugged nonchalantly, but now that he wasn't running on adrenaline anymore, even the slight movement jarred him and he winced.

"You don't have to act so tough. Rowan was really strong," Morgana said. "Come on, let's get you to Gaius." She helped him up and the both of them started walking slowly back to the castle.

"But he wasn't too strong for you," Arthur pointed out miserably.

"Hey, I'm older." Unlike usually, Morgana actually tried to make him feel better. Strangely this only made feel Arthur worse. He must be looking really pathetic if even Morgana was taking pity on him.

"But you're also a girl."

Morgana rolled her eyes. "I wish everyone would stop saying that."

"Wherever did you learn to use a flail so well, anyway?"

"My father…" Morgana paused, as if the mere words had called up painful memories. "He… taught me how to use a variety of weapons. He told me that a girl has to know how to defend herself better than a man… and that she should be able to utilize any object as a weapon. Only then can she feel truly safe."

"Wow," said Arthur after a few seconds of silence. "He must have really cared about you."

"He did," Morgana agreed, seeming pensive for a moment. Then she smiled again and nudged Arthur playfully. "So, how does it feel to be saved by a girl?"

Arthur groaned. "I didn't need you to save me. I would've figured something out." (Unfortunately and unbeknownst to him, later, this exchange would be a trend.)

"Sure you would've," Morgana agreed easily, which showed Arthur just how much she didn't believe it.

"I would've!" he insisted as they went up the stairs to Gaius's chambers.

"Okay, Arthur. Next time I'm just going to sit there and watch you get beaten up," Morgana said as she knocked on Gaius's door.

Arthur scowled, which only made her look even more amused. At that moment Gaius opened the door and looked surprised to see both of them there. "Gaius, Arthur needs some patching up here," Morgana said quickly, showing the court physician where the bruises were.

"My goodness, what have you two been doing?" Gaius ushered Arthur quickly inside, Morgana following behind them.

"It's not me… for once," Morgana laughed. "It's that awful Prince Rowan. Arthur foolishly challenged him to a duel."

"It wasn't foolish!" Arthur insisted again, but Morgana just patted his good shoulder.

"Just get well, okay? I can't have fun with you when you're already all beaten up." Then she turned to go, but Arthur's hand suddenly shot out to catch hers. Morgana turned around in surprise. "Why…" he asked hesitantly, trying hard to force the words out, for they would finally be admitting that she was right. "Why did you save me?" Despite having to swallow his pride, Arthur had to know. Morgana's intentions had always seemed to be to make his life difficult. So her sudden heroic move today had really… unnerved him. She was suddenly unpredictable.

But Morgana just smiled and answered easily, "Because I'm the only one who gets to bully you, silly." She gave him a look that silently added, _Don't get used to this_, and then left. Arthur stayed there, quite speechless.

Gaius, as he gathered his ingredients to brew the right remedy for Arthur, looked at the young Prince and his Lady fondly, and smiled.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

The first time Morgana felt self-conscious around Arthur was on the eve of her seventeenth birthday. She was trying on the dress she would wear for the celebration tomorrow. Uther had gone all out for it, saying that seventeen was a big deal even for women because that was the day they came of age, and they would also be cementing her role as the First Lady of the court.

Over the last few weeks the court seamstress had worked hard to make this gown and made it as perfect as possible, and now it was finished and it fit her like a glove. It was made of a blue-green material that matched her eyes with a rather low neck cut that made her cleavage peek out just enough to be tempting but not inappropriate. A layer of thin fabric covered the lower part of the dress in a lighter color, making the dress look as if it changed colors with every step she took. Little glittering beads ran down the length of the sides to add even more beauty to the entire design. Personally, Morgana didn't remember ever seeing something so breathtaking.

And yet when Gwen secured the last clasp and smiled at their reflections in the mirror, all she could think about was, 'What would Arthur think of this?'

"You look amazing, my lady," Gwen said, pulling her out of her strange reverie. Morgana smiled and noted that she was right, for even though she tried not to be vain, her reflection had truly stunned her. "Every eye in the court will surely be fixed upon you all night. Surely no lady more beautiful than you exists in Camelot."

"Oh Gwen, stop it," Morgana finally blushed. "I don't care about hoarding everyone's attention, honestly."

"Ah, yes. Because you only want one person's, right?" Gwen teased. Morgana smacked her playfully without giving a response even as her skin felt warmer, remembering what she'd been thinking about just seconds ago. But she would be damned if she ever told _anyone _that.

She had no idea exactly when she'd stopped seeing Arthur as the spoiled brat with golden hair who liked to run around giving orders and swinging his sword recklessly. All she knew was that in the past year, sometimes she would glimpse his figure from her window, training with the other knights, wondering for a fleeting moment who was that handsome young knight that she'd never seen before, only to do a double take and realize it was _him_. How could that happen? How could, after years of seeing him every day, suddenly Arthur looked so different? How could she view him in a different light?

Yes, he had grown up, but he was only fifteen now. Still so young compared to her age. In fact, with her turning seventeen tomorrow, she felt almost as if he was still just a child, that the gap between them had somehow grown wider. But he certainly didn't _look _his age anymore.

As she took off the dress once she made sure everything was in order, Morgana wondered what exactly was happening to her.

* * *

The first time Arthur felt his heart skip a beat when he saw Morgana was when she stepped out into the hall where her birthday celebration was held that night, greeting the guests assembled with the grace of a true lady.

She was a vision of beauty as she walked in that beautiful dress, smiling and grasping people's hands with genuine warmth and gratefulness for their attendance. She moved from person to person, royalty and common alike, somehow knowing all their names and their histories, charming every single one of them with both her heart and mind.

Meanwhile, Arthur could only stare quietly as if he were in the presence of a goddess. Which was not an exaggeration to describe her that night, he supposed. But this was rather ridiculous. Just this morning he'd greeted her happy birthday and she looked the same as always. Sure, she was older now, but having spent every day with her, Arthur had hardly noticed the change.

Until tonight, apparently.

Tonight, she was a woman.

* * *

"Gwen, come, dance with me," Morgana approached her friend at one corner of the room and held out her hand.

Gwen shook her head. "I can't, Morgana, I'm _working_," she pointed out even as she poured some more wine to another guest's glass.

Morgana pouted slightly. "Just for five minutes."

"You're going to get me in trouble," Gwen shook her head again.

"Fine, then we could at least talk. I could use a friendly face after all that boring political conversation," Morgana sighed and sat down on a table beside Gwen. "Don't they know it's meant to be a celebration? You'd think they would want to talk about happier things."

"Here's a happier thing. Did you see the look on Arthur's face when you walked in?" Gwen whispered conspiratorially.

Morgana looked taken aback for a moment, but she quickly assumed an indifferent expression. "What of it?" she asked casually. As if she hadn't noted his exact expression surreptitiously. As if she hadn't both wanted to laugh and swell with pride and… something else that she couldn't decipher yet, all at once. But of course she hadn't let any of it show. Of course she hadn't faltered. She would never let him or anyone else know she was paying the slightest bit attention to him.

Gwen looked at her suspiciously and for a second Morgana thought her friend would be able to see right through her. But then Gwen just gave her a wide grin and said, "Well, let's just say I was surprised his jaw didn't actually drop to the floor."

At that, Morgana couldn't help but laugh. "You'd better be careful what you say about the Prince."

"He's so _besotted_ with you," Gwen continued to tease, and before her reddened cheeks could give her away, Morgana quickly stood up and excused herself, saying that she still had many guests to attend to.

* * *

Arthur could not keep his head straight anymore. It was a wonder he could keep up with the conversations happening around him given how often he tuned them out and, no matter where he was standing in the room, his eyes kept traveling back to the raven-haired figure that had made him feel so strange tonight. It was as if his gaze were drawn to her by some magical pull. This had never happened before.

And the whole time he kept marveling at how gorgeous she looked. No matter how many times he'd found her, every time he was struck anew by her beauty. And he couldn't get enough of the sight. How on earth could she transform so drastically in such a short amount of time? Was it simply the magic of the dress and the jewels she was wearing right now? Could they really be that powerful? When he saw her the next morning, would all this illusion go away and his feelings about her return to normal?

Yes, that had to be it, Arthur reasoned. She'd just dressed up very well tonight and he was simply amazed by that. Tomorrow morning she would go back to being the obnoxious, bullying girl who constantly drove him crazy.

But right now, it would be impolite if he didn't talk to her. He'd avoided her long enough, and now that he'd seen her slip out to the balcony, he could speak with her alone without the crowd and the lights and the noises. This was the perfect time to once again give her his congratulations, from the Prince to the King's ward. He probably could use the fresh air too.

And so Arthur stepped out to the balcony to follow Morgana's footsteps. He hesitated for a moment as he drew closer, intimidated by the curvy figure of the woman before him. He suddenly felt like he was just a boy in the face of a lady. But no, this was the girl he'd known all his life, right? There was no reason to be nervous.

"Morgana," he said softly as he stepped up beside her on the balcony.

Morgana turned her gaze on him coolly, the opposite of everything Arthur felt near her right now. He envied her for the lack of change she felt around him. "Arthur," she said, and was it just him, or did even her voice become more… sensuous? "I thought you'd forgotten all about me."

If only she knew. "I apologize for… not finding you sooner. I had to, er… put some finishing touches on my gift for you." He pulled out a small ornate box from his pocket and handed it to her. "Happy Birthday again... Sister."

Morgana had smiled at the sight of his gift, but she blanched at his last word. "What did you just call me?"

Arthur felt heat rising in his cheeks. "Um… Sister?"

Morgana looked at him strangely. "I'm not your sister."

"I… I know that, but we might as well—"

"No," she said, suddenly using the tone Arthur was much more familiar with. Her stubborn, annoyed tone. "I am not and will never be your sister. Just because Uther made me his ward… Don't _ever _call me that again."

"Okay," he raised his hands in surrender. "I didn't mean anything by that. I didn't realize being considered my sister was such an offense." Gods, what had he said that for in the first place? Despite his defensive tone, Arthur wanted to kick himself. He'd just been so confused… and wanted to say something that would make him feel less of all these emotions he felt for her. But it was so stupid. Even he had had to resist cringing once it came out of his mouth. It was just all kinds of wrong.

Morgana's expression softened a little. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. It's not that I think you're not worth being considered a brother, Arthur. I… just don't think that's what we are. It's… a little bit more complicated than that. It simply doesn't feel _right_. Do you know what I mean?" She looked at him pleadingly, as if wishing him to understand what she was saying. Arthur was surprised by this unusual mood.

"Yes," he agreed, nodding along in a half-bewildered way. But her words resonated within him. He felt relief hearing them. That was the dumbest idea ever; making her his _sister_. She was right; she would never be his sister.

"Well, I at least hope you'll like the gift," he extended the box toward her again, and this time Morgana took it. She opened it carefully to reveal a beautiful necklace nestled inside, its pendant in the form of a teardrop and made out of turquoise.

"It's beautiful," she smiled, her face glowing with genuine happiness. Arthur watched her and felt his own heart bloom with pleasure. She _liked _it. He'd been hopelessly searching the market all day for something perfect and when his gaze fell upon the necklace, he'd felt in his gut that this was the one. And it had been right.

"I thought it… matches your eyes," he said rather shyly.

Morgana smiled. "I know. Thank you, Arthur." She looked at him momentarily and he felt as if he might melt into a puddle under her gaze. Just when he scrambled to think of an excuse to get away before he did something stupid, she spoke again. "Will you help me put it on?"

"But what about…" Arthur gestured at the necklace she was already wearing, but Morgana just pushed the box back to him and unclasped the one on her neck deftly.

"Yours is better," she said simply, then turned around so he could put the new one on.

Arthur looked down on the necklace he'd picked and gingerly pulled it out from its box. He rested the box on the balcony and gently swiped Morgana's long hair from her shoulders before he put the necklace around her neck. Touching her skin and being this close to the warmth of her body had made his hands tremble so badly that it felt like forever before he finally managed to clasp the necklace securely. If Morgana noticed the long wait, she said nothing to call attention to it. Arthur's hand lingered on the back of her neck a few moments more before he finally pulled it away. "There," he said, hoping she didn't notice how nervous he was.

She turned back toward him and looked down at the necklace. "Perfect," she grinned at him. "Now let's go back before Uther sends guards to find us. Dinner is to be served shortly, I think."

Caught off guard by the sudden change in the mood, Arthur could only nod in agreement and follow Morgana back inside, every bit of him wishing that moment had lasted just a little bit longer before they had to go back to the real world.

* * *

"To the Lady Morgana, may her beauty and grace remain forever, and here's to many more years to come!" Uther raised his chalice as he led the audience in a toast and the audience cheerily echoed, "To the Lady Morgana!"

They all took a drink, and Morgana smiled in appreciation to the King. "Thank you once again for this great celebration," she said sincerely.

"Of course, my dear," Uther said fondly, and despite her doubts when she first came here seven years ago, Morgana realized that she too had come to love him, almost like a new father.

And yet… she turned her gaze to her other side where Arthur was seated. If she could see Uther as a father, then surely she could view Arthur as a brother? He was, after all, Uther's son.

But when Arthur had called her 'Sister' earlier… she had nearly flinched in pain. The word had seemed so absurd, and now more than ever the thought was horrifying. Not that being his sister would be that horrible, but… She wasn't sure what it was she felt, only that it was not sibling affection. Maybe it had been that before, but it wasn't anymore.

And now Morgana wasn't sure she could go back to the way things were.

* * *

How could one grow up with a person one considered a sister, despite their lack of blood relation, and feel at ease—if often annoyed, even—around her, for what seemed like forever, to have all that suddenly changed in one night? It did not make sense.

Throughout the celebration Arthur kept pondering this, and the answer never came to him. He kept telling himself to just wait until the next morning. Then, his world would be returned to normal. This was the only thing that helped him sleep that night once the festivities were finally over; the promise that tomorrow things would make sense once more.

Still he woke up bright and early come morning, and almost anxiously got dressed and roamed the castle in search of Morgana. She was an early riser too, so he would probably be able to find here somewhere in the castle. He turned a corner in the hall and ran smack into her.

She was wearing one of her every day dresses today, and looked about as ordinary as ever once again. Or as ordinary as Morgana could ever be, anyway. He stopped just in time before they could truly bump against each other.

Her face broke into a smile. "Good morning, Arthur," she said, and it spoke volumes about what Arthur was feeling indeed that he didn't even notice that this was a most unusual response. Usually, she would greet him with a smirk or a challenge or a taunt. This morning she was being uncharacteristically nice.

"G-good morning," Arthur finally managed to find his voice again, but by then she had started to walk away, continuing about her business. Arthur was left alone in the corridor, standing frozen much like when he'd first seen her step into the room last night.

Indeed, his feelings this morning when he saw her was not unlike then, despite the lack of a gorgeous dress and pretty jewels. Today Morgana had returned to the Morgana he was used to being around, physically. But clearly that had not been the cause of the change, for Arthur suspected she would never be 'just Morgana' anymore for him. And strangely he felt a mix of both relief and dread at that. Had he not wanted to feel the way he used to after all? How did things suddenly become perpetually confusing?

As he finally managed to continue walking again, he remembered he'd noticed one thing that was the same about her physically as last night; she was still wearing the necklace he'd given her.

_Yours is better_, she had said.

Three simple words. And that, despite everything else, made him smile.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Eighteen-year-old Morgana strode into the palace kitchen one particularly chilly night, looking for something to eat. She didn't usually feel this hungry this late but she supposed the cold had something to do with it. Not wanting to bother Gwen or any of the other servants who had been working hard all day and currently enjoying their well-deserved rest, she had chosen to sneak into the kitchen and help herself to a piece of bread or something similar. Only when she entered, she realized she wasn't the only one there.

Soft giggles emanated from around the corner; a girlish sound that probably belonged to one of the young maidservants. Curious, Morgana peeked around it and, to her surprise, she saw Arthur standing in front of the girl. He was juggling three small balls above his head, clearly showing off his skills to impress her. His face was creased with concentration and Morgana raised an eyebrow.

"Ooh, you're so good at this, Sire!" the girl encouraged him excitedly, no doubt swooning over the fact that the Crown Prince was not only giving her the time of day but also being exceptionally friendly toward her. She was just a small girl, probably barely fifteen, with red freckles on her face and hair whose color could only be called orange. Arthur was grinning from ear to ear now and that was when Morgana stepped into both of their views.

"What have we here?" she asked loudly, which of course immediately startled Arthur and messed up his focus. All three balls fell and bounced all over the place, one of which actually hit him on the head. He yelped in pain and looked at Morgana in annoyance.

"What are _you_ doing here?" he demanded.

Morgana put her hands on her hips. "I could ask you the same thing." Her gaze slid toward the servant girl, who immediately fell into a curtsy.

"M-my lady. Excuse me, I was just leaving…" she scurried off quicker than a mouse who had seen a cat and Arthur watched her go for a moment before turning back toward Morgana, his shoulders sagged.

"Thanks for ruining my fun like always." He rolled his eyes and started gathering the balls. Morgana saw a loaf of bread nearby and started slicing a piece of it for herself.

"Flirting with a servant, are we?" she remarked without glancing at him.

"What's wrong with that?" he shot back, standing upright now that he'd gathered all three balls. "And you still haven't told me what you're doing here."

"I'm hungry," she pointed out, waving the slice of bread for good measure. "And I would think the prince would have some standards. She's not even all that pretty."

"What are you, jealous?" he smirked, which caused her to gasp indignantly.

"Jealous? Of a lowly servant girl?"

"Your best friend is a maidservant too," Arthur pointed out. "You seem to think highly of _her_."

"Gwen's different," Morgana insisted. "She has more class than that… little…" she waved her hand dismissively at the direction in which Arthur's servant girl had gone, her sentence trailing off as if she couldn't be bothered finding the appropriate word to describe her.

"Oh, so it's okay if I flirt with Gwen then?" Arthur challenged.

Morgana whipped around quickly and pointed a warning finger at him. "Don't you dare! And before you say I'm jealous again—which is just ridiculous—I'll have you know I'm only protecting _her_."

"I think she'll be so lucky to have a chance with a _prince_!"

"Not one who's an idiot like you." Morgana picked up the slice of bread, dumped it onto a plate, and walked away from the kitchen, leaving Arthur spluttering in disbelief and failure to return her remark with a witty comeback, as usual.

* * *

The next day Camelot welcomed one of the neighboring kingdoms' royal court members as honored guests. Arthur was introduced to the daughter of the visiting king; Princess Clarissa. She was beautiful, of course, and her hair was as fair as Morgana's was dark. When Uther asked if he could entertain the princess while their fathers talked about politics and negotiations about their respective lands, Arthur took one meaningful look at Morgana and said, "Of course, Father." He nodded at Clarissa and gave her his most charming smile. "Please, my lady, follow me."

Clarissa beamed back and happily trailed Arthur out of the throne room, leaving Morgana behind as she looked at them skeptically. She finally followed them a few paces behind and the trio eventually stopped just inside the terrace of the castle.

"Would you like to go riding, Princess? It is quite a beautiful day," Arthur said in his most polite voice. Morgana looked at him in disbelief. He had never used that voice around her.

"That seems like a very good idea! I would love to," Clarissa agreed immediately, and Arthur started leading her toward the stables, both of them still ignoring Morgana as if she didn't exist. For a moment Morgana considered tagging along, but somehow the idea of having to listen to them talk like this all day nauseated her, so as much as she didn't like leaving them alone either, she finally decided it was the better option for her health.

"I have some lessons to take. I'll meet you both later," she said dismissively. Not that Arthur or Clarissa seemed like they even heard her. Throwing one last annoyed look at the pair of blonde heads, Morgana marched back toward her own chambers.

Gwen found her a few minutes later, staring out her window and fuming. "What is the matter, Morgana?" she asked, concerned.

"Nothing," Morgana replied shortly. "Arthur's just taking the snobby little princess for a ride. I hope he falls on his butt," she said venomously.

To her surprise, Gwen laughed upon hearing this. Morgana finally turned her head from the window to look at her friend. "What is so funny?"

"You," Gwen said in between gasps of laughter. "You're scary when you're _jealous_."

"Jealous?" Morgana said indignantly. "I most certainly am not!"

"Well, you sure look like it. You do know it's his job to entertain princesses, right?"

"Yes, but usually he doesn't pay that much attention to them. In fact, usually he looks downright bored or completely awkward around them. Today for some reason he has turned his charm full-on."

"I can only think of one reason why he'd do that," Gwen shrugged, muttering more to herself.

"And what might that be? Because he has finally found one princess who has made him fall head over heels in love with her?" Morgana rolled her eyes, clearly thinking the idea was ridiculous.

"Well..." Gwen pretended to seriously consider the question, tapping her chin contemplatively. "Let's see. She _is _pretty. And from what I've heard, quite smart too. She has excellent riding skills and quite adept with a bow. She has even taken an interest in her father's politics at this early age. I can imagine she's going to be a great Queen."

With each word that Gwen spoke, Morgana became more and more agitated. Finally she turned at Gwen with annoyance. "Oh, are you her best friend now?" she demanded hotly, positively furious. Gwen actually thought she saw smokes coming out of her friend's ears.

Gwen laughed again. "You should look at your face! Of course not, Morgana. I'm just saying; Arthur has a good reason to be taken with her."

"Well, I don't agree." Morgana said firmly and turned back toward the window, as if intent on waiting right there until the royal pair come back from their little riding trip. Gwen smiled to herself and slipped quietly from the room, and Morgana never even noticed that she had gone.

* * *

Princess Clarissa's party stayed for the next three days, and during those three days Morgana barely saw Arthur at all. Every time they finished eating or excusing themselves from their parents' presence, Arthur immediately suggested some activity or other that he and Clarissa could do together. They'd done it all; from walking to swimming to reading and once they even studied together with Arthur's tutor. It was starting to get ridiculous, in Morgana's opinion. That was why she finally felt relief when the fourth day dawned and the visitors prepared to leave Camelot.

It seemed forever until they all exchanged their polite goodbyes, but eventually Morgana watched with satisfaction as Clarissa climbed onto her horse and, at last, rode away from the gates of the palace.

"You didn't seem to spend much time with Princess Clarissa, Morgana," Uther noted when the riding party had disappeared in the horizon and they turned back into the castle. "I know you don't have a female friend around here and I thought you girls would get along; find a lot of things in common."

"Oh, I couldn't. Arthur kept stealing her away for himself," Morgana said curtly. "He was practically monopolizing her," she added with not a small amount of sarcasm. Arthur gave her an indecipherable look and Uther looked somewhat pleased by this, but the conversation ended there abruptly so Morgana excused herself.

She found Arthur matching her steps not too long after as she made her way back to her chamber. She glared at him and asked, "What do _you _want?"

"Why so hostile, Morgana? I noticed your mood has been really bad for the past three days or so," Arthur said casually.

"I'm sure it's just your imagination," she said dismissively, not looking at him.

"So what do you say we have a little sword fight match?"

"I'm busy," she said quickly.

Arthur looked at her with amusement. "Doing what? What do you plan to do now? Oh, wait, don't tell me. You're going to spend the day brushing your hair."

Morgana turned and glared at him some more. "Why the sudden interest in spending time with me again, anyway? Lonely already now that Princess Clarissa has just left?"

Arthur didn't seem fazed by her sarcasm at all. He just shrugged casually and said, "Ah, she really wasn't all that great. A boring companion, really."

She stopped walking. "Is that why you spent the past three days wooing her?"

Arthur halted beside her and stared at her with a funny look. "Wooing her? Hardly," he laughed. "I was just being a good host. Besides, you were the one who suggested to me that I should hang out with princesses. What's the matter, Morgana? You didn't approve of me flirting with a servant. Now I tried playing nice with a princess like you insinuated I should be doing instead and you still don't like it either."

Morgana felt like stomping her feet in frustration. "That was _not _what I was insinuating! Besides, like you said, she seemed like such a bore. I don't know what you ever saw in her."

"So what _was _it you were insinuating, then?" Arthur asked, throwing and catching one of the balls he'd juggled that night in the kitchen while he looked at Morgana playfully.

She just shook her head and walked on. "I doubt you'll ever understand with that small brain of yours."

Arthur struggled to catch up with her. "Would it make you feel better if I tell you I was glad to be rid of her at last too?"

She looked at him doubtfully. "So you really don't think she's pretty and smart and all that."

"Nope." His face was innocent. "All she talks about all day is politics and what she would do when she becomes Queen someday. She's smart and an excellent rider, but she sort of looked down upon most physical activities. She actually blanched when I suggested we did a little sparring with swords. Apparently she prefers long-distance weapons."

Now Morgana grinned. "Did you not tell her that we do sword fights regularly?"

"I did. Needless to say she was appalled by your… decidedly unladylike manner."

"Well, I never!" Morgana scoffed and started walking again. "Good luck being a good Queen without knowing how to fight when the enemy is near."

"I know, right?" Arthur rolled his eyes, and suddenly Morgana looked at him suspiciously.

"You really think she's not the perfect princess?"

"Well, maybe in theory she is. But honestly, I'd rather hang out with a bullying brute like you."

She gaped in disbelief and slapped his arm. "I'm no bullying brute! I'm still a lady, thank you very much!"

Arthur laughed. "You could've fooled me. Just look at that attitude. I'm sure I'll be getting a bruise from that slap in the morning."

"You're just a weakling!" she shoved him playfully, and he shoved back with a laugh.

"Prove it then! Fight me today!" he challenged, and she reiterated with her own cutting remark, and soon enough they had fallen back into their regular back and forth banter as they headed toward the training field. As they taunted each other and prepared for their little sword fight, Gwen watched the two of them from one of the upper windows and smiled to herself.

Arthur and Morgana were fighting again. All was well in the world once more.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

On the day Morgana officially stepped into adulthood on her twenty first birthday, she experienced her first incident with the powers she had no idea she'd possessed within her since birth. She was sitting in her room, writing a thank you letter to one of the guests that had attended her birthday party earlier tonight by the light of a candle, when the wind blew in through her open window and extinguished the flame.

Looking up in exasperation, she turned around and remembered that she'd already dismissed Gwen for the night. She looked around the room and couldn't find any match to relight the candle. Annoyed and helpless, she stared at the candle as if she could command it to burst into flame once more. Her churning emotions suddenly gave way to something else—there was something akin to a surge of power within her—and a moment later with barely a whisper the candle's wick lit up anew, the yellow fire dancing merrily in front of her.

Morgana gasped and stumbled backward, tripping on the edge of her bed and nearly toppling over. She stared at the candle as if it was a ghost. What had she just done? Did she really do that? And if so… how? She looked around in panic before she remembered that she was alone. No one had seen what happened. No one knew what she did. No one would find out that she could perhaps be in possession of… _magic_.

The word sent chills along her spine.

* * *

"You seem quiet today, Morgana," Arthur prodded her with his fork the next morning at breakfast. "Are you ill?"

She looked up at him, snapped out of her reverie. "Huh? No… I'm fine. Just tired from yesterday's festivities, I guess."

"Not like you to be exhausted by a mere party," Arthur commented with a grin, completely oblivious to her troubles. Morgana looked at him momentarily. Uther had not joined them for breakfast this morning because he had some pressing issue to attend to, which meant she could tell Arthur what happened if she wanted to, without Uther listening in as well—a scenario which was just asking for trouble. While Morgana knew how sensitive Uther was to issues involving magic, she had the feeling Arthur would not react so violently to her confession.

And yet…

Her mind rewound itself to a memory that happened many years ago, when she was only fourteen years old and Arthur was twelve.

* * *

_It was a particularly hot summer day, one that promised not a single drop of rain. Morgana was pacing relentlessly in her room, her private tutor frowning at her._

"_Morgana, will you please sit down? I can't be sure you're listening to anything I have to say if you're constantly moving," said her tutor._

"_Why? You mean I can't move and listen at the same time?" she snapped, then flinched at her own rudeness. Dejectedly, she finally sat down and crossed her arms in front of her chest._

"_I've told you, I can't let you out early. Your father insists that no more slacking off will be tolerated."_

"_He's not my father! And I only sneaked off with Arthur twice," Morgana rolled her eyes._

_The tutor gave her a stern look. "Nevertheless, you still have to wait here another fifteen minutes before we're done. Now, please open your book."_

_Morgana fumed but did as she was told. The next fifteen minutes felt like the longest fifteen minutes of her life. She was so sure her tutor lied and certainly by now an hour had passed, and Arthur would have been done with his training, and she needed to get out of here and to him immediately…_

"_Alright, that's it for today," her tutor said finally. "You may go."_

_Morgana shot up from her chair so quickly it tumbled backwards, but she didn't even look back, ignoring her tutor's exasperated shout. She made her way through the castle and straight into the armory, where she knew Arthur always went after his practice. But he was not there. Panicked, Morgana decided to follow her instincts and stormed into Gaius's quarters._

_When she slammed the door open, the court physician looked up in surprise. Beside him, Morgana saw Arthur covered in way too much blood. "Arthur!" she yelled in panic, running toward him at once._

"_Morgana, what are you doing here?" Gaius asked her in confusion as he tried to tend to Arthur's wounds. _

"_Who told her?" Arthur whined. "I'd threatened all the knights to keep this quiet, especially from her!" He didn't seem at all concerned for someone who had lost so much blood. _

"_I…" Morgana had no idea how to answer him. "What happened to you?" she said instead._

"_A little accident in the training ground. One of the older knights accidentally slashed him with a bit too much excitement," Gaius explained while Arthur just looked on sullenly as the physician bandaged his side._

_Morgana looked horrified. "Have you reported this to Uther?" she asked of Arthur._

"_No. And you won't, either! That knight is not to be punished. I was the one who told him not to hold back."_

"_Arthur!" Morgana said in exasperation._

"_It's not a big deal, alright? It doesn't even hurt that much!" Arthur insisted, even as he winced when Gaius finished off the bandage and cleaned up the rest of the blood._

"_Well, you do need to rest after this. No more practice for at least a week," Gaius said._

"_A week?" Arthur exclaimed. "And how am I supposed to explain that to my father without telling him what happened?" When Morgana glowered at him, he said, "And I won't tell him what happened! That is the end of it!"_

_Morgana sighed. "Fine. I'll help you come up with some story for him." She didn't know sometimes why she cared about this bratty prince so much._

"_Alright, I have to go find some herbs for your medication. Will you look after him while I'm gone, Morgana?" Gaius asked._

_Arthur gave an indignant snort but Morgana nodded. "Of course. I won't let him out of my sight."_

_Gaius smiled in satisfaction. "Thank you, Morgana. I know I can always trust you."_

_As he left, Arthur yelled, "Thanks so much for leaving me in the hands of this bullying brute, Gaius! You might as well have killed me yourself."_

_Morgana poked him on the shoulder, hard. "Stop being such a prick."_

_Arthur glared at her. "You still haven't told me how you even knew I got injured. Who told you? I will make sure they suffer."_

_Morgana rolled her eyes. "No one. I…" she bit her lip, looking around to make sure they were alone, and finally said, "I had a dream."_

"_Huh?" Arthur looked confused now._

"_Last night, I had a dream that you were lying somewhere with blood all over you. I barely managed not to wake up screaming. I thought for sure it was just a nightmare, but something about it felt… different. More real. And this morning, the feeling of unease wouldn't leave me. I tried to get to you to warn you, but my tutor wouldn't let me leave. Now it's too late." She glanced at his bandaged side and suddenly felt really guilty. If only she'd just ignored her tutor's words and ran out there herself, maybe this wouldn't have happened._

_She looked back up at Arthur's face warily, wondering what he might think about her confession, but what happened next was completely unexpected. He burst out laughing, and even with the pain on his side, he barely managed to stop before Morgana hit him herself._

"_A dream?" Arthur said between gasps of laughter. "That's it? You're trying to tell me you actually dreamt about this happening before it happened? Nice try, Morgana, but you can't honestly expect me to believe you."_

"_It's true!" Morgana stomped her foot in frustration. "I know what I saw! You can ask my tutor; he can attest to my anxious behavior all morning!"_

"_I'm sure he can. Look, even if it's true, it was just a dream, okay? It was a coincidence."_

_Morgana looked at him doubtfully. "But what if it wasn't?"_

_It was Arthur's turn to regard her solemnly. "Prophetic dreams are not a good thing, Morgana. They have to do with magic."_

_The moment he said the word 'magic' Morgana felt chilled to the bone. She had not thought about it like that before. That her dream might mean there was magic involved. _

"_And… and what if they do?" she challenged back, though now her voice trembled slightly._

_Arthur frowned. "Magic is evil," he said without hesitation. "Look, your story might simply amuse me, but don't mention any of this to Father, alright? You wouldn't if you knew what's good for you." And with that, he stood up and left, mumbling something about being hungry. Morgana sat where she was, suddenly feeling more alone than she ought to feel after Arthur walked out on her._

* * *

Morgana looked at him now, the same boy from all those years ago, with the same smug smile and playful glint in his eyes. Had he ever changed his mind about how magic was evil? She knew it was unlikely given how relentless Uther was at instilling this belief in the mind of every Camelot citizen. And yet she couldn't help but feel hopeful that he might understand. Because who else could she tell her little secret to?

So later that day Morgana entered his chambers when she knew he would be there, poring over some documents or other, and Arthur seemed surprised when he saw her. "Morgana. Have you forgotten how to knock?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Sorry. I just… have a lot in my mind," she admitted. "Have you got a minute?"

"Sure. What is it? Have you torn yet another practice dummy to shreds and need me to replace it before Father knows?"

Morgana resisted the urge to roll her eyes and sat down in front of him. She didn't quite know how to broach the subject without sounding suspicious. Then her eyes fell on the documents on Arthur's desk. The word 'Druid' jumped out to her. "What is this?" she asked, suddenly feeling her heart beating louder in her chest.

Arthur looked back down at the papers. "It's a map of a Druid camp we're planning to raid later today."

"R-raid?" Morgana asked, stammering slightly. "Do you mean… you plan to kill them?"

Arthur sighed. "This really isn't an appropriate matter to discuss with a lady."

"Oh, cut the crap. I've never been just a lady, to you of all people, and you know it," she replied scathingly. "Now tell me. Is that what you plan to do?"

He looked conflicted for a second and Morgana felt hope rising within her. Maybe he didn't want to do this after all. Maybe she could turn him around… "I have to, Morgana. My father cannot tolerate anyone who practices magic in our kingdom, you know that. I have to show him that I am loyal to him and all his policies."

"Even the ones that require you to kill innocents?"

"This isn't up for debate, Morgana. And it isn't as simple as that."

"Why isn't it?" she challenged.

"They're bad people. They're hardly innocents."

"Just because they have magic?"

"Yes."

Morgana looked at him in disbelief. "You're… you're really that cold blooded?" She looked at him as if she'd only seen him for the first time.

Arthur seemed pained for a moment, but then his conviction was back. "Magic is what killed my mother, Morgana. What else am I supposed to think? I will, of course, spare the women and children. I'm not completely heartless."

Morgana gave a sarcastic laugh. "Oh, that makes it so much better!"

"Look," Arthur said harshly, standing up. "I don't expect you to understand. You've never been wronged by magic before. I lost my mother to it. _My mother_. So you don't get to judge me about what I do after that."

Morgana was speechless for a moment, then she stood up too. She realized that this conversation was certainly not going the way she had hoped it. Meanwhile Arthur was getting ready to leave himself. For the next few minutes neither of them spoke, and Morgana was torn between not wanting to leave and not knowing what else she could say. Finally, Arthur grabbed his sword and was on his way to the door.

"I trust you can show yourself out," he said, his tone cold.

Morgana rushed toward him and caught his arm. "Arthur, just tell me one thing. What if those people didn't choose magic? What if it's something that… that just happens to people? It's not their fault."

Arthur looked at her with pity and shook his head. "We don't know that for sure."

Growing more desperate, Morgana decided to ask him one last thing, "What if a person you care about… someone close to you… what if you discover they had magic? Are you going to kill them in cold blood, too?"

This question seemed to stump him for a moment. Morgana waited, her heart beating painfully in her chest. Part of her was hopeful, the other wanted to give up already. She didn't want to keep fighting with him. For all their banters and taunting remarks, they had never fought seriously like right now. And she hated every second of it.

"I don't… I don't know, Morgana. I don't have time for this. Why do you care so much about a bunch of people you don't even know, anyway? I have to go."

"Arthur, please! Just answer me. What will you do if it were…" she nearly choked on the word, "…me?"

He blanched. "You? Are you saying you have—"

"No!" she said quickly. "But what if I do?" Her heart was beating so loud by now she was sure he could hear it too. Arthur looked at her for a long moment and finally sighed.

"No, I won't kill you in cold blood if it were you, Morgana," he said at last, and she felt a wave of relief wash over her. But he wasn't quite finished. "But if it were you or any other person close to me, I will do everything in my power to extract that magic from them, before it corrupts them." He looked at her one last time. "If that's what you're worried about, Morgana, then don't. I give you my promise that I will protect you." With that, he finally turned and left.

Morgana stood where she was as she watched him go, not the least bit comforted by his words. It wasn't that kind of promise that she had hoped to hear from him. She didn't want him to take a part of her away from her—if it really was something she was born with. But the fact that he _did _promise to protect her… that he would not immediately sentence her to death like his father probably would…

It wasn't much to hope for, but she supposed it was something. It was a start.


End file.
